


Patronuses and Prefects

by xslytherclawx



Series: HP Battleships 2019 [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Canon Compliant, Canon Jewish Character, Dumbledore's Army, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 19:12:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19470346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xslytherclawx/pseuds/xslytherclawx
Summary: Neville struggles with the Patronus Charm. Anthony offers to help.





	Patronuses and Prefects

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for HP Battleships.  
> This isn't compliant with my Ravenclaw AU (rather, this one is totally canon-compliant), but it does use that interpretation of Anthony, as well as the background he has there.

It wasn’t as if Neville didn’t know he was getting better at casting. He was well aware that he’d improved drastically. And maybe Ginny was right; maybe it was all to do with his own self-confidence (Merlin knew, after all, that he was  _ far _ from assured in his own abilities), but he still had trouble with a number of spells. He’d be lying if he said, no matter how hard he worked, that it didn’t get overwhelming at times.

He was trying to cast the Patronus Charm, which, logically, he knew was very advanced Defensive magic that most  _ adults _ (even most adults with N.E.W.T.s in Defense Against the Dark Arts!) couldn’t manage properly, but he still felt like a bit of a failure for still struggling with it. He was lucky if he managed to produce a wisp.

“You know, even  _ Hermione’s  _ having trouble with the Patronus Charm,” someone said, disrupting Neville’s focus. He took a deep breath as the tiny wisp of a Patronus he’d managed to produce disappeared.

He turned to see Anthony Goldstein, standing far too close. Zacharias Smith, who had become Anthony’s de facto sparring partner, glowered at Neville from over Anthony’s shoulder.

Anthony’s gaze flitted over to where Hermione was trying to produce her own Patronus. “Though: I’ll be honest with you, Neville: Hermione Granger  _ does _ sort of terrify me.”

“I think she terrifies most people,” Neville said. “But she’s always been quite kind to me.”

“Oh, she’s definitely  _ kind,” _ Anthony said. “But she is the single cleverest person I’ve ever met, and I’m a Ravenclaw from a family of Ravenclaws. My great-grandfather on my Mum’s side was Minister for Magic. My dad’s whole family are Healers, except his brother – my uncle – who’s a rabbi. Those are all jobs you need to be quite clever to manage, and I feel confident in saying that Hermione’s cleverer than any one of them.”

“I haven’t met your family, but she is the cleverest person I know.”

“And even she’s having trouble with this.”

“You’ve seemed to manage,” Neville said.

Anthony shrugged. “It’s all about finding a powerful positive memory.”

Neville really didn’t think his life had been  _ that _ bad. Sure, his parents being tortured when he wasn’t even two years old was so awful he’d started having nightmares about it (coinciding with Bellatrix Lestrange’s escape from Azkaban), but he couldn’t  _ remember _ it. His gran was strict, and perhaps he didn’t have very many friends, but he didn’t have very many powerfully terrible memories. Dementors affected him like they did most everyone else; he didn’t pass out like Harry did.

But then, really, he didn’t think he had any overwhelmingly positive memories, either.

“It doesn’t necessarily need to be anything extraordinary,” Anthony continued.

“How so?” Neville asked.

Anthony shrugged. “I think about my family’s Passover Seder last year. It was the last time we were all together – though we didn’t know it would be, at the time.”

Neville hadn’t  _ heard _ about anyone in Anthony’s family being killed, but a lot of people didn’t share that information too publicly.

Apparently catching the look on his face, Anthony backtracked. “Oh, not like that. We’ve been quite lucky so far, really. My grandparents and my uncles emigrated last summer. My grandmother is a Muggleborn, and my uncle married a Muggleborn, and we’re all Jewish, so we know how to read the writing on the wall… so they left.”

“Oh,” Neville said. He couldn’t imagine  _ leaving. _

“Well, you know. Next year in Jerusalem and all that.”

“Sorry?”

Anthony blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s part of the Seder. Sorry; did you want help with the Patronus Charm?”

Neville looked over Anthony’s shoulder at Zacharias Smith, who was still glowering at him. “You really haven’t got to…”

“It’s no trouble, really,” Anthony said. 

Smith was still glaring at him, but it wasn’t as if he had any right to monopolize Anthony’s time, even if Anthony was the only person here who seemed to tolerate him. Anthony was offering to help, and Neville knew better than to refuse.

“All right then,” Neville said. “I’ve just got to warn you that it might be a waste of time.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Anthony said. He stepped even closer. “You haven’t got to say if you don’t want, but what memory are you thinking of when you’re trying to cast?”

“It’s really not a secret,” Neville said. “It’s the day I got my Hogwarts letter.”

“That’s not bad,” Anthony said. “Have you tried any others?”

Neville shook his head. “No.”

“You and Ginny went to the Yule Ball together last year, didn’t you? What about that?”

Neville wondered how Anthony knew that. “Just as friends. I’d tried to ask Hermione, but she was already going with Viktor Krum.”

“So – not the Yule Ball, then. What about your first kiss? I know that’s Mike’s.”

Neville nearly laughed. “That won’t work.”

“Well, first kisses aren’t always exactly the  _ best,” _ Anthony said diplomatically. “I greatly prefer second kisses, myself.”

“I don’t think anything like that will work,” Neville said, rather than admit outright (especially when so many people were nearby) that he’d never been kissed. Or kissed anyone. Whichever.

“All right,” Anthony said. He appeared to consider something. “What about that plant you were showing off at the start of term? It was a  _ Mimbulus mimbletonia, _ wasn’t it?”

“That really doesn’t seem like a very significant memory,” Neville said, though he was honestly a bit surprised that Anthony was even aware that he had a  _ Mimbulus mimbletonia. _

“It doesn’t necessarily need to be significant; just happy. I’ve done some reading on the Patronus Charm – well, Mike did, trying to impress Ginny, but the point remains. But try that. Think about how you felt when you got it.”

Neville tried.  _ Mimbulus mimbletonia  _ was rare, and even Professor Sprout had been impressed that he’d managed to get one. He thought about how he felt when he realised that Uncle Algie had actually managed to find him one.

“Try casting once you’ve got it.”

He focused on the feeling – the surprise, the happiness – and tried to cast the spell. “Expecto Patronum!”

He didn’t produce anything corporeal, but the wisp was bigger this time.

“Here,” Anthony said, standing behind him, and suddenly he was hyperaware of how close they were. “Your wand movement’s just a bit off – you’re doing more of an oval.” He pocketed his own wand and wrapped his hand around Neville’s. “Like this.” He guided Neville’s hand through the wand motion.

Neville felt himself blush and sort of wondered if his heart was going to pound out of his chest, but he had no idea  _ why. _ His focus slipped as he tried to cast the charm. He didn’t even manage a wisp that time; could Anthony  _ hear _ his heart pounding?

“It’s all about feeling,” Anthony said. “You’ve got to focus on that. Why don’t you try again?”

Neville took a deep breath and tried to think about how he’d felt when Uncle Algie had given him his  _ Mimbulus mimbletonia. _ He tried not to think about Anthony standing so close behind him that he could feel his breath warm on his neck, or about Anthony’s hand over his. It didn’t quite work, but when he cast the charm again, he managed a much more substantial wisp (if a wisp could be called “more substantial” by definition) than he’d managed thus far.

“Well done!” Anthony exclaimed.

“Th-thanks,” Neville managed, well aware of how very close they were. Why was Anthony affecting him like this? 

Zacharias Smith pulled a face at him, and shouted for Anthony. “Goldstein! I need your help!”

“Do you mind?” Anthony asked Neville.

He did mind, but he didn’t quite want to make an enemy out of Smith, so he shook his head. “No, no, go ahead. And thank you. Really. I think you’ve helped quite a lot.”

Anthony stepped away and faced him. He was smiling. “Of course. Let me know if you need help with anything else; I’m quite all right at Defense, I think. Not that – not that I think you’re  _ bad. _ You really just seem to lack confidence.”

If only it were that simple. “Er, thanks,” he said. He wasn’t fully convinced, but Anthony was nice enough that Neville didn’t want to admit to that.

He watched as Anthony walked over to help Smith (though Neville was fairly certain that Smith did not actually require assistance). He noticed, as Anthony pushed his hair back out of his face, that Anthony was really quite handsome. 

He shook that thought out of his head rather quickly. If Zacharias Smith caught onto the fact that Neville thought Anthony Goldstein was attractive, well – he didn’t think Smith would take it too well. So, instead, he focused on trying to cast the charm.

The problem was that his mind wouldn’t let him focus on his memory; no, the feelings he kept wandering back to were nothing so uncomplicated as surprise and happiness at a particularly apt birthday gift. He did his very best to focus, but even giving it his all (to the point where he could feel the sweat dripping down his face), he found himself even worse off than he’d been before Anthony had offered to help.

He wasn’t even aware that Harry was nearby until he heard him say, “You’ve got to think of something happy.”

“I’m trying,” Neville said, feeling rather less happy and more as though he’d like the Room of Requirement to swallow him whole.

He was spared Harry trying to help even more by Seamus shouting that he’d managed it. He let himself relax slightly, and gave himself a minute to collect his thoughts. There was no reason that this should have left him so completely unfocused. Just as he was about to try again, he was aware that the Room of Requirement had fallen silent.

Neville looked to see a House Elf wearing easily half a dozen wooly hats talking to Harry.

It happened quickly; the Elf was trying to hurt himself while passing on the information to Harry, and then Harry was shouting at everyone to run. He didn’t really think; he just listened and made for the door with everyone else. 

It wasn’t really that he thought his Gran would mind that he was in a secret underground Defensive club – if anything, she might actually be somewhat pleased with him for it – but he’d heard enough about Umbridge’s detentions to have the sense to try to avoid one himself. Or, well, expulsion. His Gran  _ certainly _ wouldn’t take kindly to that.

He broke through to the corridor, and ran toward the Library; he knew the common room was much too far. He hadn’t made it far when he felt someone grab his hand. “Over here.”

He didn’t know why he followed, but seconds later, he was glad he had. Anthony had pulled him into an alcove behind a tapestry, and cast a number of charms – and, under other circumstances, it might have raised Neville’s suspicion that Anthony  _ knew _ such charms – but in the moment, he was more concerned about being caught.

“There,” Anthony said. “Now they won’t catch us.”

“Are you sure?” Neville asked. Merlin, they were close; they stood chest-to-chest, and even then, there was barely room enough for the two of them. Anthony still hadn’t let go of his hand.

“Well, if they catch us, we can say we were snogging,” Anthony said easily, as if he regularly snogged people in alcoves. And, well, perhaps he did. He certainly knew enough privacy charms to get away with it. It wasn’t really as if Neville knew him very well, really, even though they’d been classmates for the past five years.

“Wouldn’t we get in trouble for that anyway?”

“We’re in different Houses and we’re both blokes – Umbridge’s decree only said anything about boys and girls, which is really quite homophobic and heteronormative, but in this case – it works out in our favour, I think.”

“You’d really argue semantics with Umbridge?” Neville asked.

“The decree is very clear that it’s boys and girls – not boys and boys, or girls and girls. Really, I’m surprised Fred Weasley hasn’t tried to snog Lee Jordan in front of her yet.”

Actually… he had a point. “They might not have thought of it.”

“Probably not,” Anthony agreed.

He was silent for a few moments, and before he could think better of it, Neville asked, “Are you, er…?”

“Am I what?” Anthony asked.

“You know.”

He really couldn’t make out Anthony’s face in the dark, so he couldn’t possibly read his expression, but the fact that he didn’t say anything for a moment surely didn’t bode well. “I don’t know what you mean. You’ll have to ask a bit more directly.”

“Never mind,” Neville said.

“I really don’t mind; it’s just that I’m not completely sure what the question is,” Anthony said. 

Neville blushed, and he was grateful all at once for the dark of the alcove. If he couldn’t make out Anthony’s expression, it was very unlikely that Anthony could make out the shade of Neville’s face. “You seemed to… suggest that cover story quite… quickly.”

“Oh,” Anthony said. “Well, I’ve had plenty of experience with finding couples sneaking off in alcoves and broom cupboards and disused classrooms to snog – or worse. The trials of being a prefect, you know.”

“Worse?” Neville asked.

“I’ve not seen – full-blown sex on patrol! At least not yet! But I’ve – more than once – walked in on, er… certain individuals – who will remain nameless, of course – fellating other individuals – who will  _ also _ remain nameless. It’s not as if I stopped and stared. I covered my eyes and, you know, told them to stop and go back to their common rooms, but. You’d think they’d learn privacy charms. None of them are particularly difficult.”

“Oh,” Neville said. He couldn’t imagine walking in on that sort of thing. He didn’t think  _ anyone _ in his dormitory had properly kissed anyone, let alone shagged anyone, but they were all generally very good about keeping their bed curtains closed and casting muffling charms as needed.

“But – full disclosure – I  _ am _ bisexual. I’m out, but, well, it’s not as if I have a boyfriend – nor a girlfriend, for that matter – and people generally don’t ask.”

“Oh,” Neville said, again, unsure of where to go from here. Just because Anthony liked blokes didn’t mean anything when it came to him. Even Ginny, who was always a very supportive and dedicated friend, hadn’t actually wanted to date him. Anthony barely  _ knew _ him, so why would he fancy  _ him? _

“So if you’d  _ like _ to, I certainly wouldn’t be opposed.”

“If I’d like to snog you?” Neville asked.

“I might’ve misinterpreted earlier,” Anthony said.

Neville felt horribly embarrassed all at once. Of course Anthony had noticed him blushing and stuttering and his heart beating out of his chest. He’d been too close not to have.

“What about Smith?”

“What about him?” Anthony asked.

“Are the two of you – you know – together?”

Anthony laughed. “God, no. Maybe he fancies me – I don’t know; I certainly haven’t asked – but really it’s that I’m the only one who he knows won’t jinx him, and Mike and Terry always partner with each other, anyway, since Mike is terrified that Ginny will beat him.”

And, well, there were plenty of worse people to have one’s first kiss with than Anthony Goldstein, who was handsome, and kind, and perhaps a bit weird in the way that most Ravenclaws seemed to be.

“You’d really want to kiss me?” Neville asked, trying and failing to keep the skepticism out of his voice.

“Yeah,” Anthony agreed. 

“But  _ why?” _

“What d’you mean why?” Anthony asked. 

“Why would you want to kiss me? Is it just because we’re stuck here?”

“It’s not  _ just _ because we’re stuck here,” Anthony said. “Though I hardly think I’d be so upfront about it if we weren’t.”

“Then why?” Neville asked.

“Because I like you,” Anthony said. “Do I need more reason than that?”

“But you’re…”

“I’m what?”

“Handsome and competent and well-adjusted?” Neville ventured.

“I suppose I really can’t argue with that, but it’s not as if you’re not all of those things as well. As I said earlier, I really think you simply lack self-confidence. You’re easily the best student in Herbology in our year – and, really, academic achievement isn’t necessarily a good measure of anything except for writing papers in a timely manner and being able to do as you’re told.”

“You’re a Ravenclaw,” Neville said.

“Yeah, and we’ve got some of the worst performing students in the school, at least when it comes to academics. You’re surely aware of the stereotype of Ravenclaws driving professors mad because they just don’t do their work? Because I can assure you that it isn’t just a stereotype.”

He  _ had _ heard that, once or twice, but he hadn’t really thought it was  _ true. _ “I suppose.”

“I want to pass my exams, and I want to eventually become a Healer, so  _ I’ve _ got to do well academically, but that’s not necessarily the path for everyone.”

“My gran wants me to become an Auror,” Neville admitted.

“Why, because your parents were?” Anthony asked. Neville wondered for a moment how he knew, but then he remembered that when Bellatrix Lestrange had broken out of Azkaban, what had happened to his parents had been front-page news again.

“She thinks I ought to live up to their legacy.”

“But would you be happy as an auror?” Anthony asked. “I certainly support the D.A.’s mission to teach us all basic – and even advanced – Defensive magic with the war brewing – but becoming an Auror strikes me as one of those things you shouldn’t really do unless you’re dead set on it.”

“Like Healing?” Neville countered.

“Like Healing,” Anthony agreed.

“My parents are in St. Mungo’s.”

“I know,” Anthony said. “My aunt works in that ward. She’s mentioned it. That still doesn’t mean that you’ve got to do what they did, unless you actually  _ want _ to. You know – what was it? Julius Caesar? ‘Men at some time are masters of their fates’? Nothing’s really set in stone.”

“What?”

“Well, Shakespeare said that Caesar said it. My point is – I’m not saying you need to know what you want to do with the rest of your life right now, but I don’t see any need to follow in your parents’ footsteps unless you genuinely want to.”

“I – I  _ guess _ so,” Neville said. “Ron didn’t seem very convinced I’d make it into the Auror programme, anyway.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can make it if you just get a little more faith in yourself, and dedicate yourself to it – but why do that if you don’t want to be an Auror?”

“I really don’t think I can manage an O in my Potions O.W.L.s to get into Snape’s class next year.”

“Well,” Anthony said. “That’s because Snape’s a terrible professor and shouldn’t be allowed around actual human beings, let alone kids. I’d wager everyone’d be doing much better in Potions if he didn’t insist on bullying and terrifying everyone that wasn’t in Slytherin. My parents went to school with him – they were a few years above him, though – and they said he was even awful then.”

“I can’t imagine him in school,” Neville said. The idea of Snape ever having been their age was a foreign one, though he knew, logically, that Snape was likely their youngest professor.

“I imagine all of Zach Smith’s worst traits paired with Malfoy’s bullying, only at least Zach and Malfoy seem to know how to bathe.”

Neville chuckled in spite of himself. “Before – everything last summer… Snape was my worst fear in third year.”

“See, that’s absolute bollocks! Was that with Lupin’s boggart?” Anthony asked.

“Yeah,” Neville said.

“Yeah, no, Lupin should have marched straight to Dumbledore and, if Dumbledore refused to hear it, then to the Board of Governors after that. A professor shouldn’t be his students’ greatest fear. It should be something perfectly normal, like spiders or dragons, or in my case, Inferi.”

“What are Inferi?” Neville asked. The term sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it.

“Nasty dark magic; they’re corpses reanimated to serve the bidding of a dark wizard. My aunt told me a story about them when I was probably seven or eight, and I’ve not known peace since. My mum and dad were well cross.”

“I can imagine,” Neville said. “They sound awful. Inferi, I mean – not your parents.”

“Inferi  _ do _ sound awful, and I can confirm that my parents are generally quite lovely.”

“How do you make Inferi funny?”

“Well – if you’ve got any idea, please tell me. I think Lupin was so disturbed that he had to step in.”

“I think,” Neville said, turning the idea over in his head several times. “I think I’d quite like to kiss you.”

“Oh,” Anthony said. “Yeah, of course. Er. I’ve really got no idea if anyone’s still out there, looking for us, so – do you want me to light my wand?”

Neville’s eyes had adjusted slightly to the pitch dark, but it was still far too dark to  _ really _ make anything out. “All right.”

He heard Anthony whisper the incantation, and the tip of his wand illuminated. Neville realised all over again how very close they were; Anthony’s face was mere inches from his own. He felt his heart begin to beat wildly again, and his stomach churned. Merlin, he hoped he didn’t muck everything up. Not that he thought Anthony would tell a soul if he did, but even just the two of them knowing would be right embarrassing.

“You know you’ve got freckles?” Anthony asked.

He met Anthony’s gaze, and rather than respond, he leaned in. The longer he hesitated, the more the chance that he made an idiot of himself. Anthony seemed to get the hint, and let go of Neville’s hand (Neville hadn’t been aware they’d still been holding hands), wiped his hand off on his trousers, and gently cupped Neville’s jaw. Then he angled his head, closed his eyes, and kissed him.

It was a chaste kiss, all things considered, and Neville didn’t dare try to deepen it (he wasn’t even sure how he’d do that), but there really wasn’t much room for them to separate without one or both of them stumbling out into the corridor.

Neville had no idea what to do at this point. What  _ did _ you do after you’d kissed someone?

“That was nice,” Anthony said.

“Yeah,” Neville agreed, grateful to have something to do that wasn’t stand awkwardly and silently. “It was.”

“Maybe I was wrong earlier. When I said second kisses are better. I think this’d make a perfect memory for a Patronus Charm.”

Neville knew enough to know that Anthony was giving him an opening. “I think we’ve a Hogsmeade weekend left,” he managed.

“Would you like to go?” Anthony asked. “Properly, on a date? Or, if you’d prefer – we leave for holidays this weekend. If you’d like to Floo down to Diagon Alley, we can do something there. Or even Muggle London.”

Neville was sure he could think of an excuse to give his Gran. And it was very unlikely that he’d run into Malfoy or his cronies there, and less likely still that Umbridge or Snape would find some way to get him into trouble, so he said, “Yeah. All right. That sounds great.”

“Great!” Anthony said. “And – I’ll be honest; I wasn’t sure whether or not to believe Hannah when she told me to go for it.”

“Hannah Abbott?” Neville asked.

“Yeah,” Anthony said. “She, er, well, she told me to get over myself and just – go for it. That even if you didn’t feel the same, you would never be unkind about it. So… I did. And I’m glad I did.”

It wasn’t quite as if Neville had ever particularly  _ noticed _ Anthony before; they’d known each other, to be sure, but he’d always sort of  _ been _ there _. _ He was practically joined at the hip to Terry Boot and Michael Corner, neither of whom Neville would consider a friend. He supposed Hannah Abbott was the closest they had to a mutual friend, when, really, Hannah was Ernie and Justin’s friend.

“I’m glad you did, too,” Neville said.

Anthony opened his mouth to say something else, but before he could, the tapestry was thrown back and Padma Patil stood there, looking unimpressed.

Neville was mostly just relieved that it wasn’t Filch, or one of Umbridge’s cronies.

“Well, now I see why you didn’t come back to the Tower after the coast was clear,” Padma said, giving Anthony a significant look. Neville was all too aware that the entire school would likely be aware of this tomorrow.

“Better safe than sorry,” Anthony said genially. He lifted the charms, but he didn’t move to leave.

“Umbridge has ordered a count of all students out of their dormitory,” Padma said. “Longbottom, why don’t I walk you back? I have a feeling if Anthony tries to, another prefect will find you in another alcove on another corridor.”

Neville looked to Anthony, and then back to Padma. “Did everyone else from your House get in?”

“Everyone except Marietta,” Padma said. “Lovegood’s going on about – nargles or wrackspurts, or something; I don’t even know.”

“I should…” Neville looked to Anthony again. “I should probably get to Gryffindor Tower.”

“Right,” Anthony said. “We’ll talk later, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Neville agreed.

And then, in full view of Padma Patil, Anthony leaned in to kiss Neville on the cheek. “Thanks for hiding with me.”

**Author's Note:**

> you can't prove this _didn't_ happen in canon.
> 
> * * *
> 
> come say hi on [tumblr](http://xslytherclawx.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> * * *
> 
> Please feel free to join my [discord server](https://discord.gg/yb6bS3c)! It’s a general Harry Potter server.


End file.
